ringrazia tutti degli auguri fatti in questa giornata

Now that the emotionalism of last night has passed, I think I can look at things a bit more objectively. Not to say that I recant everything that has been said. On the contrary, I can only affirm what is written below with perhaps now more a nuanced reasoning.

For my reflection today I'd like to call to mind two things: silver and gold and the death of a bird.

One of the things the Sacred Hearts Nuns (SS.CC.) would tell the small children when I went to visit them was a short rhyme that could be sung: Make new friends and keep the old; one is silver and the other gold. At first I was struck by how simplistic that sounded even for a child. I think I've come to a greater appreciation of that a few years after I've heard it. If we are to take it seriously the little rhyme offers really good advice. So often we're tempted to move on too quickly for newer and bluer waters that we forget where we have come from. In these instances we forget that those who have loved us to that point still stand on the seashore of destiny awaiting our return one day.

Am I wrong to assume that in some deep way we miss other people even if we forget about them? Am I delusional? Evidence suggests that I am. It is easy to forget and move on. I can't tell you the names of every friend I've had in my lifetime. Indeed, it seems that we know people for a short time then move on in the beautiful pilgrimage of life. But deep in the depths of our heart are we to deny that we could have carried on so far without the love and aid of others to whom we owe a certain debt of gratitude? Would a simple memory be too much a price to ask of those who opened themselves to us in friendship? Certainly not.

I suppose the real question is how we are to remember them. While clinging to people never dones anybody good - unless this is a life partner - what is the appropriate response to friendship? Alas, it isn't as if there were some chart somewhere which correlates the quality of friendship to the quantity of adherance. I think this is really the crux of the matter. Having established that it is good, beneficial, and right to think about them after they've left our lives, perhaps the question becomes: what does this imply? What does this look like? And how are we to place judgments on something which exists between two people at the same time though neither will probably feel quite exactly the same way about the other? Is it simply enough to think about this person from time to time? Maybe it is. After all, that is what pictures on desks are for. But there's something really shallow about that.

Maybe friendship has meant to me something quite simple: no matter where you are, if you remember me or not, or even if you don't want to have anything to do with me, I am thinking of you always and want the best for you. I might choose to express this through an email, a facebook post, or I might even keep it to myself. Something can remain firm though: that people may come and go but the love will remain. In this way, friendship remains forever.

Of course I won't tell any of my friends that to their face. I'd like to think they'd know what it means for me to call them friend. Some will be oblivious. That's ok. The plurality of the meanings of "friendship" only show the remarkable layers of human consciousness.

At this moment I am thinking of my dear, dear friend in Amsterdam - Marie Louise. Talk about a person grounded in herself. She was so confident, so svelte. Her sense of curiousity is something I miss.

Second, about a bird dying.

In my last semester of studies at Chaminade University, I would often leave campus for lunch somewhere. Sometimes I'd head to Zippy's or Likelike. This way was a particularly good day. I don't remember why, but I felt the need to celebrate alone. I pulled out of Chaminade's driveway onto Waialae, then down Kapiolani. Little Village was my designated celebration spot. The waitresses there know me quite well. It was as if I needed to be known by somebody but not take a friend with me. But anyway, I remember sitting in traffic at the intersection of Kapiolani and Ward, right next to the Blaisedell center on the right. I could see the marquis for upcoming events. To my left a new building was being constructed. The minutes passed and I withdrew into my own world. The song "Trate Olvidarte" was playing on my ipod broadcasting to my car's radio. Suddenly I saw a small group of birds fly from the right to the left. They passed pretty close to the road face. Just then traffic started to flow. All of them made it except one - he had been clipped in the wing by a motorcycle. He laid there with his wings outstretched on the road.

Now, I began to feel pity and wanted to get out and help it. But what was I to do? My light could've turned green at any time. Instead I sat there looking at it. It tried to get up but it couldn't. It rested its beak on the pavement, blinked, then turned its head to the side. I saw that cars were coming and I couldn't watch so I turned away. Forgive me for anthromorphizing but I thought I saw the little bird give up. It pained me for the remainder of the week. I couldn't eat any orange chicken. I had just seen a little bird die. Here he was, flying along with his friends, and wham. Death. I don't think I've ever recovered from seeing that. Yes, I have seen actual people die. But I don't think I've experienced that sense of resign that I saw in that bird that day.

All sorts of problems have been plaguing me with regards to PhD applications. I don't really feel that I am altogether qualified for doctoral work. Then again, I don't know what a really qualified person would look like. Many of the PhD students I meet here are pretty flighty and quite frankly not that bright. I mean they're bright but not in the way that I thought PhD students were to be. I am not putting down my colleagues. Rather, I am beginning to attack my assumptions of what the doctoral level is all about.

As I might've mentioned somewhere, education wasn't a top priority in my household. A simple high school diploma was enough. Every once in a while I met people with a BA or BS and held them in very high regard. It wasn't until I was 17 that I met an academic PhD. Jimmy Christiana. He blew my mind. He had done graduate work at Columbia and Harvard terminating with a PhD at Cal under Robert Bellah, the now famous sociologist. For as long as I've known him, Jimmy has always amazed me with the breadth of his knowledge of just about everything. It surprised me to see how much faith he had in me even if he gave me a super hard time about everything all the time. Most of all Jimmy instilled within me a love of knowing. As my sociology and philosophy professor, he taught me how to make key distinctions in arguments. And what is more, he was always careful to remind me that there are always different levels to thought which don't all converge on the same strata. In short, the man taught me how to think more efficiently. After reading my posts that's hard to tell right? It comes out when it wants to come out. Soon after that I met other key figures. Two of my theology professors guided me into the tradition. They introduced me to the major concepts that I had known about only superficially prior to that. I think their contribution to my life is a love of the tradition itself. I am happy to call these two men my friends today. I couldn't thank them enough.

The point? I've felt like that bird on the roadway recently. I was resigned. I was injured and inert. It was time to give up because there was no hope. But I can imagine seeing me from the outside - would I not be troubled to see "me" give up? Of course. After all they've invested in me, I owe it to both them and myself to try. So I might fail. So what? I am no stranger to failure.

And so, I've formally resumed my application process. I have three distinguished faculty who are willing to write letters on my behalf. Two of them are well established in their fields - one in theological ethics and the other in systematic theology. The third is still establishing her place in the community. She is astronomical and it'll happen soon. I am confident in my letter writers. They are seasoned academics who give a lot of thought to everything. All I should do is trust that they know what they're doing because they have chosen to put their names behind mine. And you know what? To have six people behind me on this pursuit is amazing. That is over 100 years of combined theological experience. Who am I to disagree, the lowly thinker that I am?